


Day 15 - Scars

by broken_fannibal



Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (tbh it's up to you if you read this as platonic or not), Caretaking, Chronic Pain, Couch Cuddles, Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Crying, Gentleness, Hugs, M/M, Phantom Limb Pain, Platonic Cuddling, Scar Pain, Scars, Trauma, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, and another 100 year nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_fannibal/pseuds/broken_fannibal
Summary: Aziraphale was unusually quiet.Crowley started turning around to see what was going on. But a hand to his shoulder stopped him.When Aziraphale looked up his eyes were sad. "Where do they all come from?"“I thought you knew...” he said quietly. Being reminded was always painful, having to say it out loud was even worse.And the angel’s warm hands on his back only made the itching worse. So he swallowed hard and said it. "The fall.""Oh." There was a soft caress. Ever so gently. Ever so carefully. "My dear, I'm so sorry."





	Day 15 - Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure if this should be rated Teen & Up or Mature. I went for Teen & Up in the end cause there is no actual violence or sexual content or anything. But if anyone thinks that Mature might be better, don't hesitate to tell me.
> 
> oh and Crowley lost his wings before/during the fall

Ever since he had arrived, Aziraphale had noticed that Crowley was moving differently. He shifted in his seat more often. Rubbed his back against the backrest. His hands were restless, always twitching and fumbling. He seemed distracted, often giving short answers or only humming in reply.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as they sat on the couch in the bookshop.

Crowley stopped mid-movement. "Huh?"

"You seem troubled and distracted.”

"Sorry..." he smiled apologetically. He rolled his shoulders and grimaced as he tried to reach a spot on his back.

“What are you trying to do? Maybe I can help you?” he smiled gently.

Again, Crowley stilled. One hand still reaching over his shoulder. He would never have asked Aziraphale to help him. But if he offered...?

After a moment of debating, he nodded and took off his glasses. "My scars are itching again.” He explained as he pulled his shirt over his head and turned his back to Aziraphale. “I'm not even sure why but if-" he broke off when he felt a gentle touch to his back.

Aziraphale was unusually quiet.

Crowley started turning around to see what was going on. But a hand to his shoulder stopped him.

When Aziraphale looked up his eyes were sad. "Where do they all come from?"

“I thought you knew...” he said quietly. Being reminded was always painful, having to say it out loud was even worse.

And the angel’s warm hands on his back only made the itching worse. So he swallowed hard and said it. "The fall."

"Oh." There was a soft caress. Ever so gently. Ever so carefully. "My dear, I'm so sorry." Aziraphale took in all the scars. Some bigger, some smaller. The biggest ones were just under Crowley’s shoulder blades. His throat tightened. He reached out to touch them. "Is this-" his voice failed. "where your wings... were?"

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself for speaking. He could very well guess which ones Aziraphale meant. But maybe... maybe he would touch them. Just as softly as he had touched his back before that. ”Where? If you just point at them, I can't see it."

"No, I'm..." he trailed off. He slid his hand over the scar, to the edge.

"Yeah, those are the ones." Crowley’s voice was dark.

Aziraphale felt tears well up in his eyes. He had never known falling could leave so many scars. "Do they hurt?" he asked quietly.

Crowley was quiet for a while. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Not always. But often. And sometimes... it’s like I still  _ feel _ them- my wings. Like an ache, a soreness even though they’re not there anymore."

Aziraphale’s heart lurched painfully. He reached out to caress the scars again. He couldn't find the words to say what he felt. So he leaned in and planted a kiss on Crowley's naked shoulder.

Crowley jumped at that. His head turned to look at Aziraphale, eyes wide.

Aziraphale quickly wiped a few tears away and put on a smile.

Crowley blinked. Why was Aziraphale crying? Was he crying because of him? His heart dropped. He really shouldn't have shown Aziraphale this. If it only made him sad... He reached for his shirt to put it on again.

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. "What are you doing?" He reached out to stop him, holding onto the edge of the shirt before Crowley could push it down all the way.

"I can deal with this on my own." he lowered his head, not daring to look back at Aziraphale. He couldn't bear to see his red-rimmed eyes.

"Please don't. Just because you could theoretically do something on your own doesn't mean you have to. I’m here. So please let me help you."

"Not if it makes you sad," he said softly.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. "Crowley, don't push me away. I want to help you."

Crowley frowned. He hadn't noticed he had been shifting his shoulders again until Aziraphale rested a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Please let me help you."

After several minutes of silence, he nodded.

Aziraphale gently pushed his shirt over his head again. Then he caressed some of the smaller scars. "I don't think you should scratch them..." He ran his fingers over the small specks of blood on several of the scars.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Isn't there a soothing balm you could use?"

"I don't know." Crowley shrugged. He pulled out his phone and looked it up. "Ah, here." he showed Aziraphale a picture of the package.

With a fluid motion of his hand, he miracled a bottle onto the side table.

He picked it up and unscrewed the cap.

"Says here it should be applied twice a day," Crowley commented. Mostly to distract himself. They were really doing this... Aziraphale really insisted on helping him...

Crowley hissed and jumped when Aziraphale applied the balm.

"What is it? Does it hurt?"

"No..." Crowley frowned at the panicky tone of Aziraphale’s voice. "It's cold."

"Oh. I'm sorry." He warmed it up between his fingers before applying more.

Crowley gave a soft sigh.

"Is it good?"

"Hmhm.” So quiet that it was barely audible, he mumbled: “Your touch too."

Aziraphale smiled. "I'm glad to hear that." Yet his heart felt heavy as he looked at the big scars under Crowley's shoulder blades. They were about as big as his hand. Smooth and pink in the middle and red and knotted all around it.

When he was done will all the scars on Crowley’s back, he asked: "Are there scars anywhere else?"

Crowley was quiet for a short moment. "No."

"There are, aren't there?" Aziraphale asked slowly. "Tell me where."

"Nghhh..."

"Tell me, dear. Please. I want to help you."

Crowley took a deep breath before turning around to look at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. "Okay." He got up and undid his belt. Slowly, he slid down his pants.

As soon as they were past his hips, Aziraphale saw the scar. It stretched all from his hip all the way down to his knee.

On closer inspection as Crowley sat down again, he noticed it looked just like the outer part of the wing scars. He smoothed his hand over the bumpy skin.

Crowley groaned and reached out to scratch at the spot where Aziraphale's hand had just been.

"This one must hurt quite a lot," he said quietly.

Crowley gave a non-committal hum.

With gentle hands, Aziraphale reached out and pulled Crowley’s leg into his lap.

Crowley lay down on his side. His back still itched and tingled a little but it was much better. But the dull pain of his wing scars was still there. He doubted it would ever truly go away. There was only so much human medicine could do after all. And it wasn't like his scars had come from a normal injury.

He was torn from his thoughts by Aziraphale’s voice. "All done." He smiled brightly.

Crowley felt an answering smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Aziraphale leaned over him to set the salve back on the side table.

For that short moment as Aziraphale’s body was covering his, Crowley felt his heart hammer against his ribcage.

"You should stay here for a while. Wouldn't want to get the balm on your clothes."

"Hmhm." He closed his eyes and nuzzled into the soft armrest.

Aziraphale watched him for a while. He carefully reached out to touch Crowley’s skin. "Crowley, you're getting cold."

He shrugged. "That's to be expected, isn't it?"

Aziraphale frowned. There had to be something he could do... He couldn't just let him freeze. "Ah! I have an idea. Get up."

Crowley frowned and wondered where the sudden enthusiasm came from. He grumbled and rolled off the couch. The carpet was surprisingly warm beneath his feet, he buried his toes in it as he waited.

Aziraphale lay down at one end of the couch and patted the space between his legs.

Crowley frowned.

"What are you waiting for?" Aziraphale held out a hand.

Crowley slowly got on the couch, not sure how to position himself.

Aziraphale reached out and pulled him close until he lay nearly chest to chest with him.

Crowley shifted his leg so he wouldn't get any of the balm on Aziraphale’s pants.

Arms wrapped around him and gently caressed his shoulders.

He closed his eyes and couldn't help the hum that escaped his throat.

Aziraphale smiled. "This is much better isn’t it?"

"Yeah."

Truth be told it was better. But his back still ached. That numb pain still radiated from his shoulder blades. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I did little to distract him. With his eyes closed, there was even less input to distract him. He tried to focus on Aziraphale’s warm hands on his back. But they strayed lower, nearly touching the over-sensitised skin. He clenched his teeth. He wouldn't spoil this. Aziraphale thought he was helping, thought he had managed to make the pain go away. He couldn't destroy that.

But now Aziraphale’s hands absentmindedly traced the knotted edge of a scar and the pain became overwhelming. He tried to keep it at bay. But he couldn't. He pushed away. Off of Aziraphale. To the other end of the couch.

Aziraphale jumped and his eyes shot open when Crowley suddenly pulled away. He saw the tense expression, the rigidness of his shoulders.

Slowly, he reached out, caressing Crowley’s thigh. "What's going on?"

Crowley shook his head and turned away. He got off the couch and reached for his shirt. He grimaced and hissed as he put it on.

Aziraphale’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what was going on. Was Crowley still in pain? Or again? What had happened?

He reached for Crowley’s shaking hands as they fumbled with the buckle of his belt. "Talk to me."

"Trch-"

"Crowley, dear, please."

"Hngg..." his shoulders were trembling ever so slightly. "It still hurts and it won’t stop, it won't go away. There nothing you can do," he said in a rush. His expression more closed off than ever.

"But you said it was better..."

"It was but- but it's not gone. It won't be. Not ever." His voice was sharp and harsh. He pushed the pain welling up in his chest away, tried to ignore the crawling pain of his scars. Maybe if he could push it all away- if he could not feel anything anymore it would be bearable.

Aziraphale felt like he was breathing ice water. He tried to fight the tears but it hurt too much to see Crowley like this. To see him in pain and suffering and not knowing how to help him.

Crowley’s stomach dropped as he saw the tears rise in Aziraphale’s eyes. There was a tightness in his chest, a constricting feeling, crushing his heart. He shouldn't have said that. He should've just kept it to himself as he had always done. He shouldn't load off his problems on Aziraphale. It was his burden to bear and his alone.

“I’m sorry, angel.” He reached out and cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands. He wiped the tears away as they kept spilling. “I shouldn't have-” the rest of the sentence was chocked up at the back of his throat.

"I just wish-" Aziraphale’s voice hitched. "I wish I could help you..."

Crowley’s jaw clenched.

"But I tried and you're still in pain!" Aziraphale reached out and rested his hands on Crowley’s arms. "My dear, it hurts to see you in so much pain. I wish I could take it away. If I could share your pain, I would."

Crowley’s eyes widened. He felt tears prickling in his eyes, threatening to spill. Claws tore at his chest, setting off that familiar deep ache.

Why did Aziraphale care so much about him? What had he done to deserve that?

Aziraphale sniffled pulled him close, carefully avoiding touching his back. He couldn't help it- he cried into the crook of Crowley's neck. He felt so helpless. So useless. What use was he if he couldn't help the one he loved?

Suddenly Crowley felt... strange. Everything became weirdly distanced. He was standing there, in the bookshop, Aziraphale shaking in his arms, clinging to him. The pain became distanced too. He still vaguely felt it but didn't truly register it anymore.

It was as if he saw himself from an outside perspective.

He took deep breaths.

But then Aziraphale pulled away.

And the pain came back full force, like a whiplash. He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to remember how to breathe. His back burned and prickled. He hurried to take off his shirt again, the friction as it dragged over his skin was nearly unbearable.

He tossed it away, not even caring to check where it landed. He took a deep breath.

Aziraphale watched Crowley. As soon as he had pulled away, Crowley had taken off his shirt and tossed it away like it was on fire. And now he stood there with his eyes closed, taking deep breaths while his hands trembled at his sides. His shoulders began to shake.

Aziraphale didn't know what to do. All he knew was that overwhelming feeling that he needed to do  _ something _ .

So he reached out and cupped Crowley's face in a hand. "Is there anything I can do?" He asked softly, his voice still rough from crying.

Solemnly, Crowley shook his head. "No. I’m sorry, angel."

"Is it always this bad?" 

He shrugged. “Nah.”

"Well, what do you do when it is like this?"

"I try to distract myself. It's the only thing that helps. And if it doesn't...” his gaze grew distanced. “Sometimes I sleep." He stayed quiet for a while. "Can I use your bed?"

"O- Of course. Yes." he nodded.

On his way up the stairs, Crowley started pushing his pants down again. He pulled them off the rest of the way and collapsed on the bed. It was soft. So soft. Almost enough to take his mind off the pain for a few seconds.

He’d need the blanket though. So with a groan, he got off the bed to lift it just enough so he could slide under it. He lay down on his belly again and pushed the blanket down to his hips.

"Isn't that too cold?" Aziraphale asked, worry in his voice.

"Probably,” Crowley mumbled into the pillow. “But my back hurts enough as it is."

Aziraphale nodded. "I'll warm up the room, then."

Crowley hummed and mumbled something that might have been a thank you.

With a small miracle, Aziraphale ensured the room would always have the right temperature.

It was all he could do.

He stood in the doorway for a while longer, watching Crowley’s as he lay there. Motionless. His scarred back exposed.

With a deep breath and a heavy heart, he turned away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did please consider leaving kudos/comments!! <3


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